


the third time

by thenbringmeback (neganstonguething)



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot, Smut, honestly what even is this thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 11:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13997490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neganstonguething/pseuds/thenbringmeback
Summary: Sometimes, you just need an outlet. For Tomas and Marcus, that turns out to be a successful exorcism and a bottle of tequila.





	the third time

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with no set decision on where canonically they're supposed to be. Could be during season 2, could be after. Considering some of Tomas' dialogue, it probably is after. Either way, enjoy this extremely self-indulgent three-thousand words of porn without plot solely focused on getting two men drunk and having them bang it out. ;D

For his lean stature, Marcus is strong. Tomas has taken mental note of this on several occasions, but he’s never been more aware of it than he is now. With his legs wrapped tight around Marcus’ waist and his body propped up between Marcus’ chest and the white shed behind him, he’s letting his partner bear all the weight and it’s honestly the biggest turn-on.

They shouldn’t be doing this. Not here.

As Tomas drags a hand up along Marcus’ back and curls his fingers tight around a bundle of his shirt right in between his shoulder blades, he remembers the successful exorcism that led them to where they are right now. A week—it had taken an entire week to perform the exorcism. For seven days, Tomas and Marcus had worked tirelessly in the bedroom of a widower and sole owner of the old farmhouse she lived in. And when the demon had finally been cast out, all three of them were exhausted and covered in sweat and dirt and God-knows-what-else.

The woman’s sister, an upbeat person who went by Natalie, had been quick to rush to her sister’s aid. All tears and smiles, she had told Tomas and Marcus to help themselves to the facilities. _“Take the longest shower you’ve had in your entire life if you need it. Just looking at the two of you, I’m guessing you both do.”_

A shower and a long nap later, and Natalie was greeting Tomas and Marcus with a bottle of tequila in the dining room. _“Lisa’s resting, but that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate!”_ She’d told them, waving the bottle around. Judging by the fact that the liquid no longer spanned the neck of the bottle, Tomas had guessed she was already a little sauced.

Initially, Tomas had politely declined. But when Marcus, spurred along by Natalie, had taken the bottle from her hands and raised it to his own lips, Tomas had found himself on the receiving end of a challenge. It had come in the form of a whiskey bottle held right in his face and Marcus smirking behind it with one blond eyebrow cocked.

Which, give or take an hour and a half of conversation and Natalie deciding to go to bed, has led Tomas and Marcus here. A few pointed stares scattered across the time spent drinking, and just the general excitement that they’d managed to save a _human life_ , along with the seething urge to _do something_ with that excitement is the reason they’re now kissing heatedly outside against a fucking shed.

They’d started in the downstairs bathroom of the farmhouse. With Tomas washing his face in the bathroom, trying to clear some of the fuzziness from his head, he’d found Marcus standing in the doorway. He hadn’t been doing much better than Tomas, with his body all slumped up against the entrance and his blue eyes standing out prominently in contrast with the flush in his skin. He’d said something stupid along the lines of “ _You should’ve shut the door if you didn’t want a visitor,_ ” and Tomas had muttered something in return about how that’s never stopped Marcus before.

And then Marcus had swept in and kissed Tomas with a deftness that he shouldn’t have been able to possess in his inebriated state, but Tomas hadn’t allowed himself to think too much on it. He’d been too focused on the body pressed against his and the wall suddenly forced up behind him, the mouth moving heatedly against his own, and the way with which Marcus’ hands explored his skin even in the middle of a kiss.

Tomas had needed air, and he’d been a little embarrassed by the level of noise they were making, so he’d urged Marcus out of the bathroom and toward the front door. They’d managed to jog out far enough to reach the shed, near where their truck was parked, and then it had all started again. Marcus had hefted Tomas up in those strong arms of his, and Tomas had trusted him to keep him upright by way of taking the man’s face in both his hands and kissing him full-on.

Now, they’re like teenagers. Tomas is panting and laughing while Marcus uses his teeth to pry open the top button to his polo.

“You _never_ button this thing,” Marcus grumbles as he closes his lips around Tomas’ collarbone. “Why now?”

“Clearly to get under your skin,” Tomas manages around a pleasant groan, burying his face in his partner’s short hair. “It does not seem to be stopping you.”

Marcus shakes his head against Tomas’ skin. “Whatever. Take your shirt off.”

Tomas doesn’t dare breathe a word of protest. He trusts Marcus’ grip around him as he arches his back and tugs the polo off his shoulders. His reward comes instantly in the form of cold wood pressed against the skin of his back and Marcus’ warm mouth around his right nipple. Tomas lolls his head back, mouth falling open to release a pleasured sigh.

This would mark the third time Tomas and Marcus discovered in themselves a more intimate interest in one another. On the first night, Marcus had been having one of his not-uncommon nightmares. A single-bed hotel room had always been cheaper, so they’d adjusted to sharing a queen mattress. Tomas had turned over in response to the tumult of Marcus’ dreams, and his heart had damn near frozen in his chest.

Marcus’ eyes had been open, tears streaming from them, but Tomas had somehow known he was still fast asleep. Between the repeated ‘ _no, no, please_ ’ and the twitching of his head, Tomas hadn’t known exactly what to do to soothe him. His own grandmother had spoken of his night terrors, and Tomas had found himself wondering if this was what they’d looked like. She’d soothed him with gentle hands on his face, so out of desperation, Tomas had done the same for Marcus.

Marcus had startled awake with a choked scream, and it had taken him a solid half-minute to reorient himself. But when his blue eyes, almost glowing in the dim light cast upon them by the crack in the curtains, had stopped darting around and landed on Tomas’, Tomas had known what he was going to do.

The kiss had been chaste, and not something that Tomas had ever thought he was going to instigate up until this point. He’d been able to feel the stubble of Marcus’ beard on his skin and the moisture of the tears on his cheeks. And while kissing someone wasn’t exactly the ideal way to go about consoling them out of a nightmare, Marcus had responded in kind.

They’d made out like newlyweds in that bed, all wandering hands and lips and teeth and tongues, until Marcus had grown too weary to do much else and fallen asleep tracing gentle caresses along Tomas’ cheek with his knuckles. Tomas had noted, after brushing what was left of the wetness from Marcus’ cheeks, his heart was still pounding, even though he too found himself winding down into sleep.

The second time was months later. Tomas and Marcus hadn’t spoken about what had happened, even if they’d become far more comfortable with one another in their shared bed. Simply sleeping next to one another had eventually evolved into curling up into each other’s bodies, sometimes with Tomas’ face buried in Marcus’ collar and other times with Marcus’ arm slung across Tomas’ belly while he slept on his back. It had just felt like a necessary intimacy. A comfort that they’d learned to seek out in one another.

But one evening, after a particularly heated argument between the two of them involving something Tomas can’t even recall the details of today, Marcus had stormed off to take a shower while Tomas had retreated to bed. It was no big deal. Sometimes, they’d get into spats. It had been a necessary part of being together all the time.

Tomas had been just about asleep when he’d felt the weight of the bed shift, though it had been on his side rather than the other. He’d allowed his eyes to flutter open just as his nose had caught a whiff of the hotel shampoo and soap Marcus had used to cleanse himself, and when he’d looked up and seen bright blue eyes peering down through the darkness at him, he’d softened immediately. Marcus had smiled at him.

 _“We fight a bit like we’re married, don’t we?”_ he’d joked, and Tomas had been unable to stifle his own amusement.

“ _I suppose we do,_ ” he’d remarked back, just in time for Marcus to lean down and kiss him.

Marcus had been in just his pants, and once Tomas had responded positively to the lips on his own, Marcus had straddled him. They’d devolved into a mess of heated kissing and bodies rutting together, the silence of the room filled with breathy pants and the slick sound of lips moving in unison, the shuffling of bodies shifting against bedsheets.

Neither of them have known what to make of any of it. But it grows more intense every time it happens, and Tomas knows it’s headed _somewhere_. He isn’t afraid of it. He’s not sure what Marcus thinks, but he’s not about to cross that bridge until he sees an opportunity to. Marcus is the kind of man you let take things at his own pace. If he wants to talk, he’ll talk.

So Tomas just goes along for the ride happily.

“That feel nice?” Marcus asks when he finally releases one of Tomas’ now-very-hard nipples.

“Yeah,” Tomas gasps pleasantly at the cool air surrounding the wet skin. “Have you ever done this before?”

“Not like this, no,” Marcus answers honestly, “but I’ve had my time to think about it.”

They’re kissing again, as Tomas feels his sense of gravity shifting until his feet are back on the ground. He plants two firm hands on Marcus’ chest and shoves him back toward the nearby truck. For reasons neither of them are taking the time to put together, they settle on climbing into the cab of the truck, rather than the back. Tomas hefts himself up into Marcus’ lap immediately.

“You’re eager,” Marcus manages around a somewhat-slurred laugh, as he fumbles with his own sweater and casts it aside.

Tomas doesn’t say anything. He simply shrugs and rocks his hips down into Marcus’. Again, they’re kissing. Kissing and heatedly grinding their bodies together, until Tomas can feel his own erection straining against the crotch of his pants and coming into rough contact with the one pushing back from Marcus’ groin.

“I do not ever want this to stop,” Tomas all-but whispers as he shifts up just enough to push his pants and underwear down and off.

“Yeah? What, exactly?” Marcus doesn’t fight the way Tomas works open his belt and jeans and tugs his cock free from his pants. He’s standing at full attention already, and as Tomas thinks about his answer to Marcus’ question, he grins to himself.

“Us. This,” Tomas responds thoughtfully as he raises two of his own fingers to his lips. “Working together. You and me. We are saving _lives_.” He can’t remember a time when he’d felt as satisfied with his work as he had when he had become an exorcist and started working with Marcus.

Marcus changes the subject abruptly by catching Tomas’ wrist in his fingers. “There’s oil in the glove compartment.”

It works, and Tomas cocks an eyebrow, before he twists and shifts sideways, popping open the glove box. Sure enough, there’s a small plastic bottle of olive oil sitting right on top of an aged truck manual. Tomas laughs out loud.

“You carry olive oil around?” He questions, holding the bottle up.

“Never know when we might get lucky enough to find a hotel with a stove,” Marcus responds simply, though it’s around a couple chuckles of his own.

“You’ve got all the answers.” Tomas rolls his eyes.

“You spend decades on the road,” Marcus takes the oil from Tomas’ hand and pours some onto his fingers, “and tell me you don’t plan for the chance to actually cook something.”

Tomas doesn’t get the chance to answer, probably by way of Marcus’ plan, as he suddenly feels the chill of cool oil pressed between his legs. He bites down onto his lower lip, bracing for a sensation he’s never felt before, and when Marcus’ finger breaches him, the bite escalates into a sharp gasp.

Marcus’ fingers are clumsy, but he’s attentive. Neither of them have done this before, and it’s very obvious. As Tomas tries to adjust to the strange feeling, Marcus pays attention to everything he does. Between his constant pleading for Tomas to look at him and the repeated question as to how he’s holding up, Tomas feels incredibly cared for. He always does with Marcus. His heart is swelling right now.

He adjusts quickly, and soon, he’s rocking his body down onto the fingers inside him. He doesn’t feel anything spectacular physically from the experience, but emotionally, he’s in Heaven. Marcus is pressing kisses to his neck and jaw and chin and lips, and it’s got him feeling higher than he can remember feeling in years.

And Marcus is growing more adventurous. He whispers something soft and sweet against the skin of Tomas’ collarbone, something like “ _tell me if this is too much_ ,” before he curls his fingers and pushes them deeper in.

It’s the third brush of the fingers that does it for Tomas. A rough caress inside him that hits a spot somewhere below his stomach from the inside and makes him moan so abruptly that it almost sounds like he’s barking. His chest and spine and insides light up, and he doesn’t realize he’s got a grip on Marcus’ thighs until he feels his fingers digging into the denim of his jeans.

Marcus’ fingers still. Blue eyes meet hazel, searching for some sort of response, before Tomas dips in for a hungry kiss. His skin is still tingling with pleasure, and now he’s aching for more. As his lips part and he finds himself trying to taste more, more, more of Marcus, his left hand glides down to his partner’s wrist, pulling the fingers from his body. He breaks off the kiss just far enough to stuff the bottle of oil into Marcus’ hand.

“ _Marcus_ ,” he breathes, the syllables of the other man’s name falling from his lips heavily laced in a Spanish accent. He vaguely hears Marcus elicit a pleasant groan over the roaring in his own head.

Marcus’ fingers, slicked with more oil, are deft as he coats himself with it, and Tomas catches himself wondering just how many times this man has explored his own body. It’s a fantasy Tomas might entertain later on, when he doesn’t have the time or the opportunity to indulge in Marcus like he is right now. For now, he sits back on his partner’s knees and takes in the sight of the head of Marcus’ cock disappearing in his hand repeatedly.

Or rather, he tries to. But the instant he’s got himself almost comfortably scooted back, he feels the cold press of the steering wheel against the skin right beneath his shoulder blades, and the pressure is just enough to honk the horn.

Both men freeze. For several of the longest moments of Tomas’ young life, everything is deadly quiet. He thinks he can maybe hear a cricket chirping outside of the truck somewhere, but that could also be the gears catching as they try and turn in his mind.

Marcus’ laughter breaks him free from his thoughts, though. It bubbles up like the first few popcorn kernels in a microwave bag, and then erupts into full-on giggling. Marcus’ shoulders are quivering as he chortles along, and Tomas finds it contagious. Before he knows it, they’re both roaring with laughter.

And when the room falls silent and their eyes meet once more, they find themselves kissing again. Tomas has both hands on Marcus’ face as he tips his head and shifts his hips up, and Marcus has an arm around Tomas’ waist, his free hand positioning himself properly for what’s to come.

When Marcus pushes in, Tomas gasps sharply into the kiss. He lowers himself down onto his partner slowly, head tipped back and eyes shut. And then, when he’s settled on Marcus’ thighs again, he lets his eyes come open and meets the other man’s gaze. Marcus is watching him cautiously, with wide eyes.

“Are you alright?” Marcus asks in a whisper, and Tomas nods almost immediately.

Movement starts up after that. Tomas sets the pace with his hands on the seat behind Marcus’ shoulders, while Marcus tries to follow the rhythm from beneath him.

It’s in these movements that Tomas realizes he’s started to sober up. He doesn’t know about Marcus, but his own mind has cleared significantly since they started making out in that farmhouse bathroom. His head is still a little on the light side, but for the most part, his body is focused entirely on the sensation of Marcus filling him up over and over and over again.

“Tomas,” Marcus pants, blunt nails raking down the skin between Tomas’ shoulder blades, “you’re…fuck, you’re _incredible_ …”

The scrape of his nails in Tomas’ skin, coupled with his words and the movements of his body, is so perfect that Tomas throws his head back and arches his hips forward, letting a low moan spill from his lips.

“You are more than that,” Tomas praises around another strangled moan as Marcus’ cock strikes that spot inside him once more and has him seeing stars. “You are _everything_. _El mundo entero._ ”

Tomas doesn’t remember exactly when he and Marcus reached completion, but soon, they’ve both stilled, their heads fuzzy with afterglow and the last dregs of their night drinking, chests heaving. Tomas rests his forehead on the cushion behind Marcus, and Marcus presses languid kisses into the crook of his neck.

At some point, they find the energy to separate, but only long enough for the two of them to find their clothes again. They retreat to the back of their truck, and after Marcus steals another long, heated kiss from him, they turn their gazes up to the stars.

“What was it you were saying earlier?” Marcus asks after a few minutes of silence. Tomas turns his head to look at him.

“Pardon me?”

“About not wanting this to stop,” Marcus clarifies with a dry laugh. “When you were waxing sentimental earlier.”

Tomas just shrugs. “I just…feel like this is how we belong. We are a good team, Marcus.”

Marcus scoffs. “I’m a good teacher.”

“You are,” Tomas answers simply. “And you have a good pupil. We could do great things. And I think God wants us to.”

“Does he?” Marcus cocks an eyebrow. “How do you figure?” Tomas doesn’t pick up any genuine doubt in his voice despite the words.

“It just feels…like this is something He wants. We’re saving people, Marcus. Even if I am mistaken, I feel like that’s important.”

As Marcus shifts closer, he shrugs his shoulders. “Hmm, maybe so.”

Tomas’ last thoughts before he and Marcus become absorbed in one another again is how he hopes Natalie isn’t too hungover in the morning. Lisa is going to need a lot of attention when she finally comes ‘round.

**Author's Note:**

> One of these days, I'll write something substantial. u.u


End file.
